Ne Me Quitte Pas
by nodistancelefttorun
Summary: Kurt Hummel is working at a small coffee shop just to pay the bills, but his roommate and best friend Rachel Berry is determined to turn his life into a real-life fairytale. Will she succeed, or will Kurt's life crash and burn at the hands of her cunning plans? Futurefic. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I'm awful! I'm sorry! I have two unfinished stories, one of which is on hiatus, yet I go ahead and post a brand new story without good reason.**

**Okay I do have one reason: The Break Up aired yesterday and I'm in a horrible post-Klaine depression and I'm in desperate need of some fluffy Klaine drinking coffee.**

**And also, this fic takes place during autumn so it would only be appropriate to post it in October. Right? Yes? Good.**

**Okay so I'm not sure what I'm doing. My head is still spinning from The Break Up, so I apologize for my rants.**

**I probably have to change the summary later because my head is a hot mess and I can't think properly. OH WELL.**

* * *

The New York autumn of 2017 was exactly like the ones always covering the postcards one can buy in those tourist stands along every single street. The trees were burning brightly in red, orange and yellow along every avenue, in such sharp contrast to the meek grey ten-floor-high buildings towering all around them. The pavements were covered in dirty leaves that had long since fallen from their mother tree and gotten trampled under the feet of the many thousands of stressed New Yorkers constantly raging through the streets on their busy days.

It was September, and the summer heat was starting to fade into a more comfortable chill, and along with the change of temperature came the change of clothing; people were taking their summer shorts and skirts and putting them in the back of their closets, instead pulling out the scarves and coats and gloves to bask in the glory of their season finally arriving.

Autumns arrival also meant replacing the summer colour palette with darker shades; maroon, navy blue, black, grey and brown.

Kurt Hummel, however much he loved snuggling up with a good book by the fire dressed in a knitted maroon sweater, had for once decided to go somewhat against the fashion stream and keep his wardrobe colorful during this season as well. He was one year out of NYADA, to which he had been accepted to along with his best friend Rachel Berry five years ago, and since graduating, he had had a hard time finding work. Rachel, of course, immediately found acting jobs that included both singing and dancing and that left her without much financial issues.

Her dads contributed to her income, too, so she had plenty to spare once the rent of hers and Kurt's joint apartment was paid. This usually meant treating herself, and now and then a few friends, to a classy brunch, or purchasing more dresses and skirts to add to her ever-growing collection.

Kurt, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky.

He was unemployed and, unlike Rachel, his parents were not very rich and couldn't cover for him for too long.

The first few months after graduating from NYADA, he tried applying for interesting-looking acting jobs, Broadway productions and, due to lack of judgment after a wild night out on the town with Rachel and a few friends he made during his years at NYADA, he even sent in a few applications to modelling agencies.

He did get a few modelling jobs, actually, which he had not expected, but none of the agencies signed him permanently.

The income for those gigs secured him for two months or so, as he during his student years had picked up the habit of not eating too much and therefore saved quite a lot of money on smaller expenses for food and supplies.

But then one day, the money suddenly ran out.

He only barely made it through a couple of the particularly rough months, and he was only days away from having to sell some of his _very_ expensive clothes to pay the rent when he got that final pay check for a small runway show he had done.

During those months he couldn't afford to buy even the tiniest scarf for himself, which was very difficult for him despite the already generous size of his wardrobe. He needed fashion and extravagant clothes as much as he needed air, and not being able to add new members to his little family was physically painful to him.

Rachel offered to pay his part of the rent for their apartment for a month or two until he got a steady income, but he refused. Part of living on his own, making it in the big city, was paying for himself and being independent. Until he was edging on getting kicked out of the apartment, he wouldn't accept any help. It was difficult enough to pretend not to notice the small amounts his dad put into his account whenever he could spare some.

So it was in this state he lived during September of 2017; broke and unemployed but fabulously so, in a crammy New York apartment with his best friend.

And so, when the crowds around him turned grey and black, with small outbursts of blue or red under heavy woollen coats, he put on a bright yellow sailor-styled coat, or a pair of bright red slacks, all matched with various of his boldly coloured scarves.

He was, and had been for so long, in such a rough patch – economically, mentally and emotionally – and refusing to let his outside reflect his dark inside was one of his ways to cope with it all.

But, even aside from the darkened fashion suddenly surrounding him, the autumn season always made him feel slightly melancolic, and each day it got harder to smile. Rachel for once put aside her own issues long enough to notice her best friend's unhappiness, only to make it her holy mission to get him a job and turn that frown into a smile.

Her first attempts were unsuccessful, to say the least. She started out with asking the producer of her latest acting job if they couldn't find a place for him, too, but they took one quick look at him and sent him packing.

Roles for people like him were limited, after all, and he didn't expect much from her attempts, despite Rachel's bursting excitement when she declared that she "was totally hitting it off with her producer and that it would be impossible for him to resist her request".

Obviously, she had overestimated her abilities to seduce people.

The quest went on, however, and she determinedly asked everyone in the business for a job for her "dedicated and hard-working friend" who was in desperate need of a decent-paying job.

When there were no takers after far too long, Kurt finally convinced Rachel to give up.

There were no great roles waiting for him out there, nor were there any of Rachel's contacts who could cast him for even the smallest role.

So when the end of September rolled around, the colorful leaves soon threatening to completely vanish from the trees and leave him alone to brighten the world in their wake, his financial status finally hit rock bottom and forced him to sell one of his precious coats to a friend of a friend. The first time Kurt ran into the guy on the street, he was wearing Kurt's coat and he didn't even remember it was Kurt who had sold it to him. Kurt made sure not to ever see the guy again afterwards, because the sheer pain in his body that came with seeing his precious clothes on another's body was torturous.

Promptly refusing to get rid of any more of his babies after that, he finally swallowed his pride and went to the local coffee shop and applied for a job there. It was something he was furiously reluctant to do and he had put it off as long as humanly possible, but he would soon be evicted from the apartment or forced to loan from Rachel, and he decided that would be far more humiliating.

Working at a coffee shop was certainly not what he would count as "making it in New York City", but he had no choice left.

It was either that, or working at some cheap supermarket, or at a McDonalds. At least he was very fond of coffee, and it was something he thought he would be able to do without too soon feeling the need to jump off a cliff. It would only be temporary, of course, until he got something more permanent and, well, _worthy_.

He did want to get famous, after all, and use the talents he had nutured for the last few years at NYADA. Serving coffee was such a waste of his talent, but what choice did he have? He couldn't afford to be picky.

He didn't get the job, though, to his complete and utter embarrassment, and he was forced to go to the next coffee shop, this time almost crawling around on the dusty floor, _begging _for them to employ him.

They didn't.

His search stretched out over another few painful weeks until his quest finally led him to a coffee shop approximately twentyfive minutes from his apartment.

That one he actually did get, and he was told to show up that next monday at 6.15am to get a set of keys and get his newbie training by one of the more experienced workers.

He was humiliated and exhausted, but at least now he had a steady income.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Unfortunately, our beloved Blainers doesn't appear until next chapter. Horrible, I know. Just stick it out and he'll come! Eventually! Like a knight in shining armour, lighting up the post 4.04-darkness as the dapper piece of sunshine that he is!**

**Yeah. I'm weird.**

**Also, the inspiration for this story (and the name) is the song Ne Me Quitte Pas, by the amazing Regina Spektor. I have a (not so subtle) crush on her because she is absolutely flawless. Google/youtube her and you'll see why. Mmmmmmm. Yeah okay maybe TMI? Yeah I know. Sorry (though not really).**

**Anyways, I'll shut up now.**

* * *

Monday, an October morning the same as every other, dawned dull and cold with thick grey clouds covering the sky, hovering over the city holding promise of rain. The early New Yorkers already out on the streets were cautiously holding their breath with umbrellas clasped tightly in their hands in preparation for the inevitable downpour. The weather forecast on the radio was annoyingly chirpy as it reminded the audience to wear non-delicate clothing and preferrably a raincoat and rubber boots.

Kurt Hummel would rather die than be seen in rubber boots and a tacky raincoat, so he profusely ignored the advice and dressed as his usual extravagant self.

He compensated the thin skinny-leg jeans and the, although knitted, form-fitted sweater that let out more warmth than it held in, with a double-layer extra thick grey-and-black scarf that at least held his neck warm. But even so, when the first raindrops splattered onto the pavement at 4.15am, he couldn't help but feel somewhat discouraged. He half-heartedly coiffed his hair into his usual perfected style, but only sighed at his finished reflection, all too well knowing it would be ruined as soon as he stepped outside into the unforgiving rain an hour later.

He spent a few minutes sitting by the window in the living room, eating a bowl of cereal and gazing out at the city beneath. They lived on the fifth floor and had a quite decent view for the still reasonable monthly rent. He watched numbly as a raindrop slid down the misted window, mixing in with other heavy drops and creating wet streaks down the surface of the glass. He watched the drop's path until it pooled at the very edge of the window, and finally heaved a sigh.

He just wanted to crawl back into his bed and pull the covers over his head, like a five-year-old too sad to go to school.

October had never been a good month for him, and he had a sneaking feeling this year would not be any different.

He put the bowl down on the floor and pulled his legs up to his chest, hugging himself as he stared back out the window. Barely four days of October had passed so far, and he still had to endure this horrible month for another 27 days. He liked to think he would be much happier if he could just hold on until November, that things would change for the better once the month changed, but that's what he thought every year. Although November had never been as rough as October, it was still wearing him down, and he knew the autumn/winter depression wouldn't falter until the beginning of January.

The Christmas holidays were usually a cheer up in his otherwise dark environment, but last year he had been so busy with school that he just couldn't find the time to go home. Rachel, having decided it was worth going through a minor hell with way too much work when the school started back up after the holidays, had gone back to Ohio, after Kurt's half-hearted reassurances that he did not at all mind spending Christmas locked up in their empty apartment writing dull essays for horrible teachers. He had spent the week writing and clawing at his hair in frustration as he scrapped yet another idea, tossing the crumpled up paper over his shoulder to pool in a pile behind him. Every now and then he indulged himself to do some voluntary reading to keep himself sane in between the relentlessly boring subjects he was studying, only to return to his work an hour later.

He hoped this year would be different, and even if he didn't dare hope to escape his dreaded October, he at least wished he could go back home for Christmas and celebrate it with his family. That way he got to be happy for a whole week before he returned to the stress and demands back in New York.  
Not that he didn't love it there – of course he did. He didn't regret moving, not at all. It's just that autumn had never been a good season for him. His nerve endings were particularly fragile and the tiniest things would get to him and make him irrevocably sad.

Rachel usually knew better than to try and force him out of his funny moods, and instead did her best to cheer him up for small moments at a time – by surprising him with cake when she got home from work, letting Kurt pick the movie at their weekly Friday movie nights, or volunteering to clean up after him when he had one of his nervous break downs and did some spontaneous cooking in the kitchen, uncharacteristically leaving the kitchen looking like a war zone afterward.

It was during the Great Kurt Hummel Autumn Depressions that Rachel really showed her best colors, and it was actually during a particularly nasty October a few years back that he had realized just how amazing (although still very frustrating) she really was. They hadn't really been friends then, not best friends at least, but she of all people had sensed his sadness and surprised him with a _huge_ chocolate cake one late night. They had eaten the cake and watched re-runs of Project Runway, and Kurt had taught her how to make his super special hot chocolate with marshmallows, and they had talked far into the night. The next morning, Kurt's sadness had been more of a dull sensation in his chest rather than a ticking bomb waiting to explode, and it was all because of Rachel.

Kurt liked to believe that that night was one of the more significant ones – a milestone, so to speak, in their relationship. From then on, they just grew closer, and soon they officially became best friends.

However much she annoyed him sometimes, she was the one who knew him the best. They _got _each other, in a way no one else got them.

Yes, he loved Rachel Berry very, very much. And he tried really hard to remember that when she now came bouncing out of her room, chirping out "good morning" and "beautiful day, isn't it?" as she poured the coffee Kurt had made for her into a small thermos and stuffed it into her bag.

"Let's go! Are you excited for your first day? I'm sure it will be amazing," she beamed, tugging him up by the arm and grabbing his cereal bowl to go put it in the sink.

"Rachel, it's a job at a _coffee shop_," he said gloomily, slowly getting to his feet and straightening out his clothes. "It's nothing to be excited about."

"Oh, don't say that! What if you meet a special someone there? It's not impossible! Really, in 4 out of 5 of the modern romantic fairytales the couple meets at a coffee shop. Do you not see the possibilities? Maybe you'll get _married _and– "

He just shook his head, and let her have her little moment. He walked past her and went to put on his coat of choice for the day. It was a bright red, knee-long wool coat that was one of the warmer ones he owned. He sighed in content as he buttoned it all the way up to his chin and then wrapped his lovely scarf tightly around his neck. Rachel kept talking about how he would meet the man of his dreams at this mediocre job as she got dressed as well, in a bright pink coat and ankle-high black boots.

She only interrupted her rant for a quick "oh no, where is my umbrella?" and then, once she found it, she was off again.

Kurt decided not to interfere, and simply tuned out her crazy.

She may be naive enough to believe he would fall into one of those love stories simply because he worked at a coffee shop, but he knew better. The small detail she had missed was the fact that all those stories evolved around one girl and one boy. Kurt was a boy, and he wanted another boy. Romantic love stories such as the ones he and Rachel spent their Friday nights sobbing over were not designed for people like him. The straight couples met in coffee shops, or at movie theaters, or at supermarkets – homosexual couples met at gay bars or secret clubs. Kurt had tried going to one of those places once, and he had come out on the other side vowing never to do it again. He was too shy for that kind of thing. And there was no way Mr Right would waltz in on him in the middle of his work day at a simple coffee shop.

Even if he did, with Kurt's luck, he would turn out to be straighter than a ruler.

He knew it, the universe knew it – Rachel, however, did not.

She insisted that fate would come through for him and send that dream prince his way once his life fit the fairytale. And now, finally, it did.

He was to work at a dull 9-to-5 work, and what else to break the monotone day-to-day life than a Prince Charming sweeping him off his feet?

He didn't have the heart to drag her back to reality, so he let her have her little fantasy.

As he stepped out of his apartment at 5.30am sharp, the sudden cold of the stairwell hit him square in the face. He shuddered and tugged his coat closer around him. Not that it helped much.

He hoisted his messenger bag further up his shoulder, and glanced over at Rachel who was locking the door. She had – thank lord! – agreed to let him re-style her when they first moved to New York, and although she now and then slipped back to her silly skirts and plaited shirts, her over-all look was not something he necessarily wanted to go throw himself off a cliff over.

She accompanied him to the subway station a few blocks away where they would split off; her heading to work at Broadway, and him taking the subway to his brand new coffee shop job.

They hugged goodbye and Kurt couldn't help but scowl to himself as he watched her disappear down the street. Why was she good enough for decent-paying, exciting jobs that allowed her to use her most precious talents, but he was stuck serving coffee to strangers?

He sighed and descended the filthy stairs down to the cold underground.

* * *

Kurt had to wait for fifteen minutes by the counter of the coffee shop before the manager had time to see him, during which he almost ran out five times because he was so nervous. It was his first job ever, after all, if one doesn't count him occasionally helping his dad at the tire shop back home. When he finally got to meet with the manager – a grim-looking man, named Carl but resentfully nicknamed The Badger by the staff, and as Kurt was too scared to ask how he had earned it, he just went along with it – he quickly got dismissed as he called for one of the other employees and told him to show "the new guy" around and explain the rules.

Kurt breathed a sigh of relief as The Badger trudged his way back to his office and slammed the door shut. He immediately tensed up again, however, as he turned to the guy who had been assigned to help him. He was the typical jock, really, and Kurt knew from his high school experience all too well what those guys were like. He and them never got along well.

This guy was built like a jock, and his sleeveless arms made him think this guy spent all his free time in the gym, and his head was completely shaved except for an a few inches high mohawk. He looked like a really _rough _guy, the kind that went around and beat people up for no reason. The arms flexed dangerously as he shifted a little, and Kurt immediately mapped out an escape route in his head in case the guy would attack him.

He felt himself flinch back as the guy moved, only to realize a second later that he had just put his hand forward.

"Hey dude, I'm Puck," he said, frowning a little at Kurt's reaction. A little heat found it's way into his voice as he added, "I'm not gonna bite you, okay?"

Kurt's eyes widened and he hastily shook his hand. "I'm Kurt."

Puck shook his hand and eyed him suspiciously. He was approximately two or three years older. "So, what's your deal?"

Kurt just stared at him for a few moments. "Excuse me?"

Puck rolled his eyes. "Yeah, what are you here for?"

"I– what? I'm here to work," Kurt said, scrunching up his face in confusion. "What else?"

"I'm here on community service," Puck said, shrugging nonchalantly. "It was either this, or picking up trash along a highway." He frowned slightly. "I ain't picking up no trash."

"What for?" Kurt asked cautiosly. If the words "'cause I punched a fag" left his mouth, he would turn on his heel and walk out of that place without hesitation.

He found himself wondering if this guy was a homophobe and whether or not he should be open about his sexuality. He wanted this job to go off without a hitch, and he _really _didn't want to find himself in the position of being bullied again. Living in New York was supposed to save him from that.

Puck just gave another shrug, and said, "I got in a fight."

"With who?" Kurt asked. He wasn't sure why he was pushing it so much. What if Puck snapped and he ended up in the hospital?

"Why do you care?" Puck asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Kurt shrugged. Why _did _he care?

There was something about the way Puck's shoulders were too high and tense, his eyes never really meeting Kurt's, that made him wonder. What was his story? Why was he so guarded, and why did he dress like a murderous gangster?

Kurt could probably fix the latter. Take away the torn jeans ad the leather jacket and replace them with a nice shirt and a decent pair of pants, and he would be a whole other guy.

Puck shrugged once again, his shoulders loosening up a little. "It's no big deal. Look, Badger told me to show you the place, so let's get to it, okay? I'm out of here in an hour."

"Don't we close at 6?" Kurt asked nervously.

Puck raised his eyebrows, as if surprised Kurt dared question his ability to come and go. "Well, yeah. But Quinn usually covers for me during lunch, so– anyway, it doesn't matter, let's just go?"

Kurt nodded shyly and picked at the strap of his messenger bag. Puck watched him for a moment, and then shrugged and walked straight past him.

It wasn't much to go through, really. There was a back room behind the counter where they kept their personal things, and there was the counter where they held the edible things and the coffeemakers and the cash register, and the sitting area where they in total had twenty tables, two or three chairs placed around each one.

And The Badger, greedy as he was, had his own little office, in which he had a neat desk, a filing cabinet filled to the brim with paper work, and a huge safe for the money they earned through the business.

The tour took less than ten minutes.

"Do you know how to use the machines?" Puck asked abruptly, turning around so quickly Kurt almost ran into him.

"Um, I suppose," Kurt said hesitantly.

"Whatever, Quinn can show you later," Puck decided, and let his eyes rake across the room for a second, quietly musing to himself.

"Yeah, that's pretty much it," he said, nodding. "You got any questions?"

"No," Kurt said immediately.

"Awesome. I'll go get lunch, and–"

His voice drifted away as the bell above the door chimed, indicating there was a costumer. Only that the shop wasn't open yet, and this wasn't a costumer.

It was an almost freakishly beautiful girl, with long blonde hair that flowed down over her shoulders. She was wearing a gorgeous blue coat, buttoned up just beneath her chin, and she was struggling to keep her shoulders level as to not drop the bag that hung over her thin frame as her hands were busy tying up that gorgeous hair into a tight ponytail.

Kurt glanced over at Puck, and noticed he had gone red in the face. He looked positively starstruck.

The girl looked up, as if suddenly aware they were present, and smiled warmly at them. "Good morning! Oh, are you the new one?"

She pulled at the ponytail to make sure it was holding, and then took a few swift steps up to the bar and grabbed Kurt's hand.

"I'm Quinn," she said, beaming. Then she glanced over at Puck, and cute little lines formed on her otherwise smooth forehead. "Has Puckerman been scaring you? Don't mind him, he's just messing around."

Puck scowled, and turned around and went into the back room.

"I'm Kurt," Kurt said shyly.

"I know, I heard the Badger talking with you on the phone," she said, and smiled. "Look, Puck means well, he just doesn't know how to show his emotions properly."

Kurt looked over his shoulder and nodded. He wasn't sure the mohawked jock had that sweet, sensitive side Quinn claimed him to have, but he at least hoped he could keep his violent side out of his work.

"Could you show me how to use the machines?" he asked politely.

"Of course, sweetie!" she said. "Just let me go hang up my coat and I'll be right back."

She disappeared after Puck and left Kurt alone by the coffee machines. When she returned, she had an apron tied around her waist, and she handed an identical one to Kurt and then set about teaching him the ways of the machines and their different routines.

Having been a huge coffee lover since a tender age, Kurt knew most of it already, and the things that were new to him easily etched itself into his brain after just a few reminders. Soon he was fluent in all the mechanics, and Quinn had a final run-through with him about how to approach costumers and a few general rules before she went to unlock the front door and let in the first costumer for the day.

His voice was a little shaky as he asked the costumer for her order, and he may have spilled some coffee on the floor as he prepared her simple black coffee to go. He poured it into a cup, put the lid on with some difficulty and then handed it over to the woman, who stood impatiently and tapped the counter with her long fingernails. She snatched it from him and spun on her heel before he could even wish her a good day.

He sighed and rested his forehead against the nearest coffee maker. Quinn, who had been watching him, came over and patted him on the shoulder.

"We get a lot of those," she said, nodding towards the exit. "Most people just want their coffee without having to interact with the staff too much. But you did great, really, just relax a little."

Kurt smiled, appreciating the gesture. Quinn really was a sweetheart, on the contrary to Puck who had settled himself in a chair and was just lazily flicking through some magazine while the other two worked.

Oh well. He could do a lot worse.

* * *

The rest of the morning was quiet and uneventful. They had a few dozen customers, the majority just stopping by to grab a cup to go and then they were out the door before anyone knew it. In between orders, Kurt and Quinn chit chatted about everything and nothing.

They talked about school, where they had lived previously – Quinn was a New Yorker, born and raised – and all kinds of non-important personal things. Kurt didn't mention being bullied, since he figured it wasn't appropriate to dwell on such dark things when first meeting someone.

All in all, the two of them really hit it off. They quickly became friends and Kurt found himself wondering why he had been so opposed to working at a coffee shop earlier.

It was comfortable and at least payed more than being unemployed, and the company was terrific.

The day went by in a blur, and by the time 6 o'clock rolled around, he had completely lost track of time.

"Well, that's it, then," Quinn said, straightening up from where she had stood leaned against the counter and went into the back room.

"What?" Kurt called after her, confused as to why she had just upped and left in the middle of their conversation.

"We're off," Quinn called back. "The shop is closing now."

Kurt fished out his phone from his pocket and checked it – and yes, the screen watch clearly spelled out 18.00 pm.

"Wow, that was fast," he said, and went back to join Quinn. Puck had left already. He pulled his apron off – a tacky red-and-white striped one that did _not_ flatter him in the least – and hung it on a hook on the wall.

He went back to clean up the machines. He focused on cleaning out the machines, sweeping a wet cloth over the counter and washing it off in the sink. He swept the broom over the floor a few times until satisfied, and then went to get his coat and bag from the back room.

The Badger had left an hour ago, grumbling at them to lock up after them when they left. His office was firmly locked, of course. He was paranoid one of them would try and steal his precious money.

Quinn handed him his coat and then accompanied him out. She made a whole scene out of officially handing Kurt his set of keys and cheered when he locked it for the first time.

"Now you are officially a part of our little family," she said proudly.

Kurt rolled his eyes at her, but couldn't help but feel somewhat satisfied. It sounded really nice, even if he felt that using the word 'family' for him, Quinn and Puck was quite dysfunctional.

The day had went great. He had made a new friend and the work was more than okay, and except for the fact that his boss was a quite nasty man that made him feel rather uncomfortable, he had nothing to feel sad about.

Quinn went with him to the subway station, and there they parted to go their separate ways, exchanging excited "see you tomorrow!"'s before Quinn disappeared to wherever she lived and Kurt went down the slippery steps to the dark subway.


	3. Chapter 3

"So?"

"So what?"

"_So_, have your fairytale begun yet?"

Kurt sighed heavily. "No, it hasn't. And it _won't_."

"It so will," Rachel said, leaning forward to poke him between the ribs. She ducked back before he could take revenge, and carefully put her foot against his crotch to keep him from surging forward and start a tickling war.

"You play dirty, miss Berry," he muttered and relaxed his body back against the windowsill. It wasn't worth getting kicked in the crotch over.

They were sitting across from each other in the window looking out on the city. Rachel had a box of thai food balanced on her knees, and while she was distracted with the view, he reached out and grabbed it from her.

"Mmm, smells delicious," he teased and took a bite.

"Hey! You said you didn't want any!"

She tried to snatch it back, but Kurt held it out of reach. They were just a few feet away from each other, so there wasn't much room to struggle over.

She finally got it back, sticking her tongue out at him as she clutched the thai food protectively to her chest.

"My precioussss," Kurt teased, nudging her hip with his foot. She rolled her eyes and picked up a spring roll. All the knives and forks were in the sink, and the delivery guy had forgotten their eating sticks, so they were eating with their fingers. Kurt had been disgusted at first, watching in horror as Rachel stuck her hand into the box and fished out a piece of sauce-covered piece of quorn, but then they made a silly game out of it and he found himself enjoying getting dirty.

He reached forward and took a spring roll himself, swirling it around in the sauce before bringing it up to lick it off with his tongue. He then found Rachel watching him, and struck a ridiculous pose that totally cracked her up.

She gave his arm a light slap and took the box from him with a giggle. "You've had enough, silly."

He grinned and tried to take it from her too, and they spent a few moments pretend fighting over it, ending up in Kurt almost falling out of the window from laughing so hard.

"But honestly, Kurt," she said, sobering up. She rolled a piece of corn between her fingers and then popped it into her mouth. "What about work? Are you honestly telling me there isn't _anyone _you're interested in?"

Kurt snorted and once again stole the food box from her. He twirled his slender finger around a few noodles and brought it up to his mouth. It was a whole new thing eating with his fingers and it demanded much more attention than when he usually ate.

"I've worked there for two days, Rachel," he said, handing over the box to her waiting hands. "The other employees are great, the manager is horrible and the costumers are okay, but that's it."

"What about that guy you told me about, then? Puck, was it?" Rachel inquired, raising an eyebrow. "You said he was cute."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Yes, but he's not my type. He's exactly like the McKinley jocks. If he walked into that place, he would fit in immediately."

"Don't count him out just yet," Rachel told him, thrusting her finger at him. "For all you know he might be the man of your dreams."

"He is okay and all, but I honestly don't think anything is going to happen."

"Of course you don't!" she exclaimed, making him jump a little in surprise. "The lovers never _know_ they love each other, not until the very end. What fun would it be if you just got together right away? Honestly, Kurt, have you learned nothing from our weekly sap marathons?"

"Just because Jennifer Aniston finds love at every corner doesn't mean I will," he said tiredly. "And he really reminds me way too much of all the guys back home who used to throw me around in high school. I don't want him too close." He scowled. "And did I mention he only works there because it's his community service?"

Rachel clapped her hands excitedly. "That's perfect!" She heaved a dramatic sigh and leaned her chin in her hand. "He's a bit of a bad boy, but he has that _thing_ that makes you think you can change him and then you–"

"Rachel," Kurt interrupted firmly. "You are insane."

"You believe whatever you want," she sighed, smiling happily at him. "You are _so _going to fall in love with him." She nudged him with her foot and singsonged, "Kurt and Puck sitting in a tree, and k-i-s-s-i-n-g."

Kurt rolled his eyes and made a point out of ignoring her for the rest of the evening.

* * *

Kurt had been employed for an entire week now. He had already established a comfortable day-to-day routine. He would get up at 5am, do his skin moisturizing routine and fix his hair and get dressed, eat his breakfast and then walk with Rachel to the subway. It still stung a little when they parted, knowing that he was about to walk into a coffee shop and walk around with the tackiest apron in the world serving coffee while she spent her whole days strutting around on a stage belting out lyrics that were specially written for her character. She had recently landed a role in a musical – it wasn't Broadway, but it was something.

Yes, he _might_ be a tad bitter, but then he got off the train and met up with Quinn at the gates, and the world fell into place again.

Every morning, he met up with Quinn at his subway stop, and together they walked the three blocks to the shop. They unlocked the place, made sure everything was in order and opened the door at 7am sharp. The Badger, using his manager position to justify him sleeping in each morning, usually came trudging in somewhere between 9-9.30am. Puck somehow managed to show up more or less ten minutes before The Badger, therefore never getting fired but earning him an hour or so extra in bed each morning.

Kurt and Quinn bonded quickly, laughing and talking in between serving costumers.

It wasn't the ideal situation, he'd be the first to admit that. But Quinn was amazing and they had so fun, and it was actually somewhat interesting watching the different kinds of costumers entering the shop.

The two of them made a game out of it. Whenever someone who wasn't a regular came in, they would speculate on their lives and who they were.

Usually they were men and women rushing in, wearing suits and clutching fancy briefcases in their shaking hands, ordering a single cup of caffeine-rich coffee to go. Those were always the most boring ones, and the stories they came up with were usually the same – busy, soon-to-be burned out business people dedicating their lives to work instead of their non-existent love life, or perhaps pursuing that oh-so-wanted top position at their firm at the cost of their children wasting away at home from lack of parental attention.

Sometimes an artist walked through the doors – painters, writers, singers. They always sat at a table in a dark corner, scribbling down lyrics or drawings, or studying the people around them for future character inspiration to their next novel. Those people were always fun to analyze.

"That one," Quinn whispered, discreetly nodding her head in the general direction of a shabby man sitting, of course, in the corner furthest away from the other costumers. He had a writing pad perched in his lap, and he was gazing around the room over the edge of his glasses. "He is a broke writer who moved here from some small city to make it huge, but the publishing company hated the book idea he pitched and now he sits around in coffee shops all day looking for inspiration for the novel that will put his name on the walk of fame."

Kurt looked over at the man while holding in a button to pour hot milk into a cup. He nodded, although his heart twitched a little at her words.

He _was_ that man, only a younger version who hadn't failed at writing – he had failed at his own crafts, singing and dancing and acting.

"What about that guy?" he asked, steering the conversation away from the supposedly failed writer. He hadn't told either Puck or Quinn about his incapacity to land a decent job in the fields he had initially aimed for. He didn't want them to see him as a failure.

She followed his gaze, and smirked. "Oh, I know his type. He's waiting for a date that's not going to come. I bet you he leaves within the hour."

"Why would he get stood up?" he asked, frowning slightly. The guy looked fine to him – reddish curly hair, a face that somehow made him resemble a dog, and an obvious chin dimple. His hands were shaking as he raised his cup of coffee to take a sip, but otherwise he seemed alright.

"Loser," Quinn said simply. "Just look at his clothes. He has a vest addiction. I can tell. She will take one look at him and leave."

Kurt shrugged. Quinn knew these things better than him, having worked at this place for two years.

She was an aspiring actress, she had told him. She did some smaller things beside working at the shop, but she had landed no major roles yet. Once she got her break-through, she said, she'd quit and never look back.

Kurt wanted her to be successful, of course, but silently wished she'd never leave. He didn't dare think about how dull and lifeless his day-to-day life would become without her.

She was such a great friend. They were at the same level of enjoying being slightly mean and bitchy, but not to an extent when it went overboard. They quietly whispered about their customers, yes, but it was never _truly _mean. It was just for fun, to make the time pass faster.

A woman with a very thin figure and red shiny hair that curled into her face entered the shop. She had huge doe-like eyes that softened her face considerably.

Her eyes searched the room for a few moments before landing on the man with the chin dimple, who had his eyes set on the table in front of him. Her eyes widened some, and then she slowly backed out the door. Quinn actually had to leave the room for a few moments to stop from laughing out loud at the poor man. The man left shortly after, his head hanging low in defeat.

Kurt felt bad for him.

When Quinn returned, she pointed out their next target, and he took a quick look at the woman before whispering her made up life story in Quinn's waiting ear.

She giggled and took the cup of coffee from his hand, put a lid on and handed it to a grim-looking man who stood waiting.

"Thank you," he snarled and snatched it from her hands. Apparently in his opinion, they had been so wrapped up in their conversation that they had forgotten that fixing his drink was more important than "silly gossiping".

Quinn shrugged and offered an apologetic smile, while Kurt fled to the back room clutching a hand to his mouth to stop from laughing out loud. This game of theirs usually ended in one of them fleeing from the counter to have a minor break down of sorts in the back room.

When he finally returned, the grumpy man had left and Quinn was currently pouring a cup of black coffee for a middle-aged woman who smiled kindly at Kurt when he reappeared.

"What about that guy?" Quinn mumbled over her shoulder.

"Divorced please-date-me-I'm-lonely," Kurt replied under his breath.

She huffed out a laugh and then handed the coffee to the nice woman with a light "have a nice day".

"By the way, do you have any plans tonight?" Quinn asked and turned to face him. There were no costumers in line, and the only people in the room except for them were two guys sitting at a table mumbling to each other and an old man reading a newspaper.

"Nothing special, I suppose," he said, shrugging. "What about you?"

"I have no plans," she said. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before saying, "How about we do something? Watch a movie or something?"

Kurt froze for a moment. Was she asking him out on a date?

He hadn't explicitly told her he was gay, so maybe it shouldn't come as such a surprise.

"I'm gay," he blurted out, his cheeks reddening.

She raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows at the outburst, and opened her mouth to say something before closing it. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth from letting out a laugh, but it came out anyway.

"Oh, no, I wasn't– I wasn't asking you out or anything. I know you're gay, I just thought we could be friends outside of this dump too," she said, forcing back her laughter when she saw Kurt's face falling. "Not that I wouldn't date you if you were straight, because you're totally hot, but I've seen you checking out guys and you don't even flinch when I change clothes in front of you so I–"

Kurt recovered, although he was still blushing profoundly, and threw his hands up to stop her. "Hey, it's fine, really. I'd love to hang out."

She smiled widely. "Yeah? I thought we could close up a little earlier and get pizza or something–"

"Sounds great," Kurt said, nodding enthusiastically.

He felt silly for assuming it was a date, but the joy he felt at Quinn wanting to be his friend for _real_ was much greater, so he quickly shed those bad feelings like a second skin.

"I have to check with my roommate, though," he said after a moment or two. "She's probably fine with it, but it's just good courtesy to ask first."

"Of course! Why don't you go call her and ask? I'll manage the bar, there's not exactly a line," she said, smiling warmly.

Yes, he was very fortunate that it was this particular shop that had employed him. God knows how miserable he would have been without Quinn's friendly smile brightening up his days.

He gave her cheek a quick peck and pulled out his phone. Already dialing the number, he went to sit at a table and wait for the call to go through.

"_Hello, this is Rachel Berry. How may I help you?"  
_

"It's Kurt," he said, smiling at her formal tone.

_"Oh, hi Kurt! How are you? Is work going well?"_

"It's fine," he said, glancing over at Quinn who shot him an enthusiastic smile. "Look, I was wondering–"

_"How is your fairytale going? I'm patiently waiting for good news. Has that Puck guy wheeled you in yet?"_

"_No_, Rachel, he hasn't," he said firmly, praying that his annoyance read through his voice. But the Rachel Berry he knew and had come to love didn't pick up hints that easily. Not even when they were shoved in her face. "Can you please give up this obsessive idea of yours? It's ridiculous. I'm happy as I am, thank you very much."

"_Of course you are, but wouldn't you be happier with a super hot piece of man candy on your arm?"_

"My god, Rachel, have you been drinking or are you just particularly crazy today?" He rolled his eyes for good measure, even though he knew she couldn't see it.

"_I can assure you my sanity is perfectly fine."_

"If you say so," he snorted. "But Rachel, I needed to ask you something–"

_"Is it about Finn?"_ she suddenly snapped._ "Because we are done and nothing he says will_–"

"It's not about Finn," he said tiredly. They had been broken up for six months, but she was still kind of hung up on him, a fact she tried to deny by dating lots of guys in his wake. "Me and a friend from work was–"

_"Is the friend your Prince Charming in disguise? If you are asking for permission to have the apartment to yourself to have wild sex with him then yes, Kurt, I would be honored to_–"

"Oh my god, _Rachel_," he almost shrieked, his cheeks flushing. "_Her_ name is Quinn, so _that_ is out of the question. Why does everything always have to be sexual with you?"

He could hear the way it came out before the words slipped out of him, but he didn't realize in time to stop them. Both Quinn and Rachel were giggling at the phrasing, and he turned a deeper shade of humiliation.

"Rachel, can I just– okay? My _friend_ Quinn is coming over for movie night, is that alright? Assuming you can keep your hands off her, that is."

"_Well, last time I checked, I was straight, so that won't be an issue."_

"With you meddling in my personal life, who knows what crazy ideas you may have in that talented head of yours?"

"_True. Very true," _she said, laughing. _"But in all seriousness, Kurt, you have my blessing. I'll order pizza for three, then?"_

"Aren't you staying late?"

"_No, I'm feeling pretty tired so I'll head home early, which I will probably pay for for the rest of the week."_

"Okay, I'll see you at home, then."

"_That you will. And if you were to bring your lover home with you as well, I wouldn't be opposed to taking that girl off your hands to let you two_–"_  
_

"Rachel, you really need to keep it in your pants. You are out of control," he said, snorting indignantly. He started a little as the bell above the entrance door rang, but knowing it was just a costumer, he didn't even glance up from where he had his gaze fixed on the table in front of him. "Is your sex life so dull you feel the need to meddle with mine?"

_"That has nothing to do with this. I want to see you happy, Kurt, and for all we know, that guy is the one," _she said with her most innocent voice.

"Oh, you are _so_ not doing this for me, Rachel. It's for you! You just want to– to–"

He trailed off awkwardly, speech suddenly being the very last of his problems, as he had finally glanced up and now found himself staring into a pair of deep, hazel eyes that burned with the force of the sun.

It was a boy, probably around his own age. He stood by the coffee bar a fair distance away, his elbow supported against the counter. His eyes had just been lazily scanning the room until they landed on the boy sitting by himself with a phone pressed to his ear, a frustrated frown gracing his forehead.

He had been watching Kurt for several moments, but Kurt had been too caught up in his phone conversation to notice the eyes staring holes into his skin. Once he looked up and their gazes connected, he was physically unable to look away.

He knew the hand holding his phone had sunk down to rest in his lap, Rachel's voice now only a soft murmur through the device. His eyes were ridiculously wide as he just blankly stared at the other boy.

The boy had turned around again, probably ashamed at having been caught staring, and quickly paid for his coffee before dashing out the door without even looking back. The gentle sound of the bell was drowned out by the door slamming back into its door frame.

Kurt was left staring at the closed door, his eyes almost watering at the effort not to blink.

In his humble lifetime, he had never seen a pair of eyes so _vibrant_. He couldn't remember anything else about the boy. He couldn't tell if he had been blonde or a brunette or a red head, what height he had been or even if he had been wearing a fancy suit or sweats and a t-shirt.

He wanted to run after him and ask for his name, but how could he possibly find him in the busy streets if all he knew was what his eyes looked like?

He was finally brought back to reality as Quinn came over to him, patting his shoulder gently. "I think your roommate hung up on you."

He flinched at the contact, and made an incoherent sound of frustration as he picked up his phone and saw that the call was indeed disconnected.

Quinn was polite enough not to comment his shaken state, and simply pressed a steaming cup of coffee in his hand.

"Your daily free coffee," she said, and couldn't resist a gentle wink. "Looks like you could need it now."

He nodded distantly, still not fully recovered from what he would later come to refer to as "the moment his world fell apart and in place all at once".

* * *

**A/N: They finally met! Yay! I'm excited for the actual Klaine to begin, but it can't begin _too _soon...unfortunately. Oh well! They've met at least!**

**I love Hummelberry friendship, I can't help it! Even though the canon friendship is generally too focused on Rachel... but they are adorable either way. Sigh.**


End file.
